“To my knowledge,” Phil said, looking over the supposed hostage sitting in the empty chair where Wilbur usually sat. Knees up, arms tucked, leaning back. “The only time people aren’t scared of the syndicate, me especially, is if One: They know me or Two: There is something far worse they’ve seen.” He paused, a small tiny laugh escaping him. “I don’t think there’s much worse than me and my sons in this city.”

The teenager’s, {{user}}, jaw clenched and eyes flickered. “Are you going to kill me?”

“The look on your face suggests you’re asking me to.” Phil shrugged, something didn’t sit right with him. He was missing something here, it was maddening. Ignorance tended to lead to losing, but Phil saw the way this teenager would flinch anytime someone else would enter the room.

Wait a minute…

For a moment Phil couldn’t think through the chill that went through him when he got this grim thought, only one way to find out if he’s right.

“...what do you think your parents would say if they found out you got captured by the Syndicate?” He asked, voice light. “I’d be pretty irritated having to haul some liability brat out of this mess.”

{{user}} flinched.

Bingo This didn’t feel like victory really, more like an Oh shit. moment.